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Ian chuckled. “Well, that’s random.”
“No, I’m buzzing, and this is s’mores. I take them seriously.” I grabbed the metal skewers from my bag and divided the ingredients between our laps. With practiced precision, I loaded a skewer with marshmallows and stuck it in the fire. Ian waited with a loaded cracker.
“Here, spread that on one of the crackers.”
“Nutella?”
“Yep, and chocolate. If I’m feeling wild, I’ll use Ferrero Rocher.”
“You do take this seriously.”
I placed a bubbling marshmallow on his cracker and pushed it toward his mouth.
“Ladies first,” he said pushing it my way.
“That one’s yours.”
I put my own s’more together in seconds and shoveled it into my mouth. I was ravenous because I’d missed lunch and dinner.
“Holy shit,” he said with a mouth full of goodness, “that’s delicious.”
I waggled my brows with my own mouth full and chewed.
His full smile had my heart pounding.
I’d told Jasmine he was handsome.
I was such a liar.
Ian Kemp was beautiful at fourteen. He was gorgeous when he was twenty-five and stood on his parents’ porch waving at me before he left me with a crush. At thirty-eight, he was devastating, sitting next to me watching me inhale my dessert.
“More wine to wash that down?”
“Please,” I said extending my glass.
The breeze kicked up at that moment and neither of us saw the tide had come in until a rogue wave came through and wiped out our fire.
Ian leapt to his feet and swept me out of the chair just before the gasping flames licked my dress.
His hands were all over me as he checked to make sure I was u
nharmed. I squirmed beneath him as I saw the bag with my dinner began to wash out to sea.
“Damnit!” I dropped my shoulders, helpless as we both watched the tide’s greedy retreat and I managed to reclaim my soaked bag.
Ian gripped the corked wine and brushed it off before he presented it to me with a wry smile.
“Well, grapes are in a food group,” I sighed nodding at his offering. “Come on, I have more of them.”
“You sure love your wine,” he said following me up the stairs into my house.
“My only vice.”
Inside my house, I lit candles and turned down the music. Ian stood unsure at my kitchen counter.
“What?”
“I hope I haven’t given you the wrong impression.” He glanced at the candles and then back at me.
